


spun from death's wool

by jurassicqueer (gaybirdkid)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Animal Death, Animal Instincts, Blond Grimmjow, Demons Are Assholes, Dreams and Nightmares, Explicit Sexual Content, Hell Trauma, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kurosaki Ichigo-centric, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Self-Harm, Sharing a Body, Sleep Deprivation, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Teenage Drama, Touch-Starved Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Kurosaki Ichigo, Unreliable Narrator, ichigo's hollow/demon is very playful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2019-10-05 04:58:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17318528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaybirdkid/pseuds/jurassicqueer
Summary: Kurosaki Ichigo dies in the operating room at 9:27 p.m. on a Thursday night. He comes back to life three hours later, only half put back together by the surgeons, and causes a massive internal investigation in the hospital as to who put a living teenager in the morgue.More importantly, he has half-memories of the three hours he was dead- and they're all from hell. For fear of getting locked in an asylum or experimented on by the government or, heaven forbid, upsetting his little sister, Ichigo keeps his mouth shut and the weird voice he hears a secret. Oh, did he mention something hitched a ride when he dragged himself back into his body?And of course, all of this just so happens to coincide with his junior year when a really, really hot guy transfers into his homeroom. Nobody ever tells you how hard it is to handle nightmares of hell, share a body with a demon, and deal with teenage hormones all at once.





	1. There interposed a Fly –

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to keep this a oneshot. i really, really did.  
> i'm aiming for a mix of humor, horror, and teenage hormones. please tell me if i've delivered.
> 
> work title is from "afterlife"  
> https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/afterlife-1
> 
> chapter title is from "i heard a fly buzz"  
> https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/i-heard-fly-buzz-465
> 
> "I heard a Fly buzz – when I died –  
> The Stillness in the Room  
> Was like the Stillness in the Air –  
> Between the Heaves of Storm – "

Ichigo’s eyes fly open with a pained gasp. He tries to drag in a deep inhale and feels what must be broken ribs dig into his collapsed right lung. Everything is so dark around him and he tries to move, tries to call out- his limbs hit steel walls and he chokes on the blood pooling in his throat. Fuck. _Fuck. Not again-_

He’s losing consciousness when burning light explodes around his feet. It’s brilliant, bright- it’s like he’s falling into a giant pit of light, though this time around there seems to be less flames and screams of the damned.

 ** _you’re pretty funny, meatsuit,_** a voice purrs inside Ichigo’s mind. It brings with it a massive, expansive presence, threatening and tasting like brimstone and heavy rain.

 _You’ve got to be kidding me-_ Ichigo thinks, his body spasming as the light engulfs his entire body- _some jackass hitchhiked my soul back from Hell._

  


“You’re sure you want to stay upstairs?” Yuzu asks for the fifth time, worrying the fingers of one hand between the other. Ichigo gives her the best grin he can manage and flicks her nose gently. He’s sure he looks constipated.

“I’m perfectly capable of handling a couple stairs, ‘Zu.” He tells her, ignoring the way Karin rolls her eyes from behind her sister. “Call me when dinner is ready, yeah?” He escapes his little sister’s smothering presence and rushes up the stairs as if proving a point- not fleeing, _definitely_ not fleeing, just showing Yuzu that there was no reason for him to not move back into his room upstairs.

He ignores the jeers from White, as well as the stiffness in his hip, and collapses on his bed with a relieved sigh. Being relegated to a cot downstairs while he recovered has fucking sucked. Not needing to move far to get to the kitchen was nice- but lacking any semblance of privacy definitely outweighed it. Plus, it was creepy.

 **_big bad King is scared of the dark_ ** White whispers, sending little tingling sensations down Ichigo’s neck. Ichigo groans into his bed covers. They smell fresh and clean, which means Yuzu probably washed them for him. He doesn’t deserve someone as sweet as her.

 **_would she be so kind to you if she knew you belong in hell?_ **White catches the line of thinking and follows it like a bloodthirsty hound. It likes tormenting Ichigo, and building off of his self-hatred is one of the easiest ways to do so. Ichigo is well aware of this fact.

“Shut the fuck up.” He mumbles, though it sounds rather garbled since he didn’t lift his face. White cackles and flicks after-images of sparks at him, teasing like teeth against his skin until Ichigo is riddled with goosebumps.

“You fucking suck, man.” Ichigo tells the demon. White doesn’t give a shit, but it does settle down a little in a restless impression. Ichigo pictures a cat kneading at a pile of blankets until they’re perfect and snorts. He rolls onto his back and idly rubs his socked feet against the hardwood floor. The ceiling of his room hasn’t changed since he was forced to move out, but Ichigo entertains himself with reaquanting himself with it to distract from the queasy feeling in his stomach.

Junior year starts tomorrow.

He hasn’t seen his friends much this summer- getting hit by a car and dying the week after school ended for the summer holidays kind of started things off on a sour note. His days have been filled with recovering from surgery and physical therapy, as well as learning how much life sucks when you’re a teenager with a hip replacement and a bunch of metal pins holding you together. Of course, being bedridden didn’t stop Orihime, Chad and Ishida from stopping by, but Ichigo tried to avoid spending too much time with them. It was less because of the physical trauma and more because he was still reeling from literally dying and being trapped in Hell for a few hours that felt like decades.

And bringing something back with him.

White had been pretty quick to make itself at home, all things considered. As soon as Ichigo had been weaned off his hardcore painkillers and stopped seeing sounds, White had explained that it was a demon from Hell that took a liking to Ichigo and followed him to the living world. It made it very clear it wasn’t going anywhere and basically promised it was going to possess Ichigo’s body to wreak havoc now that it was free. Even with a fractured spine, concussion, and fresh hip replacement, Ichigo wasn’t going to take that laying down. The resulting mental smackdown was history book worthy, Ichigo’s sure.

Now White just makes a nuisance of itself- antagonizing Ichigo, trying to goad him into irresponsible and dangerous stunts, feeding him nightmares when it’s bored. Literally the only remotely good part of the whole debacle is the fact that Ichigo is kind of a superhero now; he’s faster and stronger, able to lift a car with one hand, though he has to keep it all to himself. White says it’s from surviving the trials of Hell and because it’s inside him now, with a little proud wriggle at the latter, and Ichigo does his best to put that all out of his mind. He’s got a higher body temperature, too, and his teeth are sharper than before. His eyes do something weird, reflecting light like a cat, but Ichigo hasn’t had a chance to really explore that. Let’s him see well in the dark, as far as he knows.

“You gotta leave me alone during school, okay?” Ichigo says, prodding at White to get it’s attention. The demon pointedly ignores him.

“White, this is important- I gotta focus during classes. I can’t talk to you like we usually do, I’m sorry.” Despite being an asshole, Ichigo’s grown attached to White. It’s hard not to when it lives inside his head. He gets the feeling that White has always been lonely and tries to engage with it as much as he can, which is why he’s worried about school. White’s used to him responding. He doesn’t want the demon to get upset and throw a hissy fit inside his brain.

There’s a silence, a reticence from White that feels like cotton stuffing and dust, and then- **_promise me you’ll do a favor then, King?_ **White asks. Ichigo feels bad enough about having to ignore it that he instantly agrees, though he knows it could end badly for him.

**_read out loud for me. every night._ **

“You want me to- read out loud for you?” Ichigo asks, reaching for White’s presence as it raises it’s hackles. “There’s nothing wrong with- of course, yeah. I can do that.”

He pets and pokes at White until the demon relaxes, spreads out and fills the usual space in Ichigo’s mindset that it’s grown to occupy. The request isn’t that unusual, now that Ichigo thinks about it. White can see everything Ichigo does but only understands languages when Ichigo speaks them. It’s probably just tired of not being included when he’s reading.

White gives off a little hum of derision to communicate it’s disinterest in Ichigo’s thoughts but doesn’t do anything else. It seems satisfied enough with the promise, and Ichigo wonders just when he started catering to a demon living inside his head.

Yuzu calls him for dinner then, and Ichigo entertains White by translating everything his family says into stilted Hebrew so the demon can correct his horrific pronunciation. It’s enough to settle his mind and his nerves, and he gets ready for bed feeling somewhat calm. It’s almost easy to drift off into sleep with White’s satisfied purring.

 

**_flayed skin his flesh peeled             back blood dripping and                                           smearing down           the ropes binding him in place_ **

**_tearing his                   teeth out one by one jamming them back in the                                wrong way pure hot agony his                 mouth is on fire where is his jaw his                  tongue hanging             limp from what is left of his mouth_ **

**_eyelids torn ripped               off his eyes drying up curling              in his sockets sharp claws        poking prodding           scritching scratching at his eyes_ **

 

“Ichigo! We have the same homeroom, isn’t that great!” Orihime cheers, bouncing over the seat Ichigo claimed by the window. He wants to smile and agree, but he’s exhausted from the nightmares that kept him awake, and all he can do is wave his fingers in a small greeting. The skin around his fingernails is torn and bloody.

“You look like you slept poorly.” Ishida says in way of greeting. His uniform is immaculate, as always, and White snarls at him. The demon has always liked Ishida the least. Chad sits in the seat behind him, a silent show of solidarity, and Ichigo manages to muster up some energy.

“Anyone else we like here?” He asks, turning his head so his cheek is pillowed against his folded arms. Orihime takes the seat next to him and Ishida settles in the seat diagonally behind Ichigo, next to Chad.

“Tatsuki is in here too, and Keigo and Mizuiro! But I think they’re all in the courtyard, still.” Orihime says, running a few strands of hair between her fingers. She combs over the ends and Ichigo’s exhausted brain gets distracted by the shininess. Has her hair always been so bright, so red? Would it _taste_ red, too?

 **_you’re going off the deep end, King_ **White hums, before doing something that feels like lightning down Ichigo’s spine. He suddenly feels rejuvenated, awake like he got 16 hours of sleep, and blinks in surprise. White gives a discordant warble that is suspiciously similar to a cackle.

“-two of the transfer students as well, I believe.” Ishida is saying when Ichigo pays attention again. He rubs his cheek against his arm and glances at the door- there isn’t anyone he doesn’t recognize already there, so the transfers must not have arrived yet.

“I heard they’re punks.” Orihime says, eyes wide. Ichigo snorts and shares a look with Chad. They’ve both been labeled punks, so there’s not much stock to be put in the title.

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Ishida says, lifting his nose and fiddling with his glasses. The glare catches Ichigo’s eyes and he squints, his nose wrinkling at the sting. “The school they’re from is a cesspool of deviants.”

“You looked them up?” Chad mumbles, though he doesn’t sound shocked. It’s exactly something Ishida would do.

There’s a commotion at the door- a few students hurry away and take shelter at the desks a good distance away, while others murmur and look on in interest. A noise catches Ichigo’s ears and he lifts his head in time to watch the entrance of the two transfer students.

They’re both eye catching in their own way; the shorter of the two has green eyes that are too big for his face and black hair that makes his pale skin look even paler. He doesn’t really look at anyone in the room, just enters and sits at the chair closest to the door. His companion stops in front of him, and-

 **_what’s this?_ **White asks, wiggling like an inquisitive cat eyeing a tasty bird. Ichigo has to agree- the second transfer is tall and broad, smaller than Chad but definitely thicker than Ichigo, and he has a shock of blonde hair that’s as distinctive as Ichigo’s orange hair is. His jawline is sharp, nose defined, with bright blue eyes shaded by eyebrows as blonde as his hair. The color is natural, it seems.

“Oh my!” Orihime gasps, and again Ichigo agrees, though her attention seems riveted on the smaller transfer. The two strangers seem to feel the weight of their gazes and look over- and Ichigo meets sharp blue eyes that could cut steel. For some reason he feels his mouth flood with saliva, his throat constricting like he wants to swallow. He wants to bite, to _taste._ White hums in avid agreement.

 **_not food- can we play? fight?_ **White nudges at him, urging him on, and Ichigo runs his tongue over the sharpened edges of his teeth. He feels a hunger deep in his stomach, something that clings to the inside of his ribs like scraping nails. The blonde student stares back at him with a feral intent that Ichigo can understand.

“Why is he coming over here.” Ishida deadpans, rubbing his temple with a few fingers. Ichigo forces himself to relax and slump deeper into his chair. Next to him Orihime fusses with her hair and gives the blonde a critical eye as he stops in front of Ichigo. His stance, his way of walking is all wild grace and confidence, and Ichigo _wants._

He looks down his sharp noise and his lips tick up in a half grin. Ichigo doesn’t lift his head, doesn’t bare his throat to someone that’s clearly strong, but lets his own eyes wander over the other student’s broad chest and biceps straining against the uniform blouse. He slips into the empty seat in front of Ichigo and props his chin on a hand, grinning in a way that showed more teeth than necessary.

“Haven’t met someone with hair as wild as mine ‘til now.” He says, his voice falling into a low rumble. Ichigo wants to feel it against his skin.

“Nothing weird about my hair.” Ichigo says. White is practically vibrating in his mind, distracting in the way like a thrumming heartbeat and bird wings against his eyes. The new student snorts and leans forward a little. Ichigo is painfully aware of the eyes of most of the classroom on him.

“I’m Grimmjow.” The other boy says, but doesn’t bother to offer a hand. The name is startlingly foreign, although Ichigo could have expected it with his non-Asian features. His Japanese has a soft accent that could be from anywhere.

“Ichigo.” White writhes in excitement, chanting Grimmjow’s name over and over in a way that Ichigo knows is going to drive him insane. He can’t quite fault the demon, though, because Grimmjow is looking at him with an animal interest that sends a shiver down his spine.

“Ichigo, huh?” Grimmjow says, rolling his name around his mouth. Ichigo likes how it sounds- likes it so much he can feel his eyelids drop a little, until he’s looking up at Grimmjow through his eyelashes. The other student looks a little gobsmacked. His lovely blue eyes widen and then crinkle as a wide smirk takes over his face.

Behind Ichigo, Ishida clears his throat just as a wave of students enters the room. Ichigo doesn’t spare him a look but instead settles lower into his crossed arms, peering up at Grimmjow through the edges of his bangs. He ignores the commotion of the room, dismisses the presence of the teacher, and lets White’s instincts saturate his tongue as he discreetly opens his mouth. Scents overwhelm him quickly but Ichigo lets them flow past until he catches the heady smell of Grimmjow- human musk, the hot spice of his sweat and blood, the cold taste of sand and wind. His eyes flutter shut and once again he has to swallow quickly around a flood of saliva.

 _What the fuck is this, White? Are you doing this to me?_ Ichigo tugs at White, who seems to be just as startled as him- it gives him a quick, dismissive swat that forces Ichigo back out of his head. He shifts awkwardly, trying desperately to ignore the heat simmering low in his stomach, and stubbornly avoids looking at the back of Grimmjow’s head.

 

“See you tomorrow, Ichigo!” Orihime yells, waving enthusiastically from beside Tatsuki. The other girl gives him a grin and salute before turning to follow Orihime home, and Ichigo waves to Chad as he takes his own way. Ishida had stayed behind to clean a classroom or something like the little kiss-ass he is.

Ichigo tucks one hand into the strap of his bag and flips through his music on his phone with the other. His hip is stiff and his back sore, unused to being stuck sitting for long periods of time, and he walks with a limp over the uneven sidewalk. The day is cloudy and windy enough that his bangs whip over his forehead and into his eyes.

He feels the heat of another person from behind seconds before a hot hand wraps around his wrist. The scent of cool wind sneaks past Ichigo’s parted lips and he lets Grimmjow turn him, lets him step a little closer until White hisses at the proximity. The other boy is several inches taller than him and broad in a way that suggests extensive gym time, or a physically demanding job. His fingers overlap around Ichigo’s wrist. A clever hand tangles in his headphone cord and pulls them out of his ears with surprising gentleness.

“Didn’t wanna stay and chat, _Ichigo?_ ” Grimmjow murmurs, using his extra height to lean over Ichigo a little. White’s interest in Grimmjow quickly wears off with the clear domination display, and Ichigo feels a spark of irritation himself at the cocksure attitude of the other boy. He had been caught off-guard this morning, yeah, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let it happen again.

“What for?” Ichigo asks, eyes Grimmjow’s chin for a moment and deliberates biting it. He seems to think he’s looking at his lips because his mouth twitches in a grin that he quickly smooths away.

“You seemed interested this morning.” Grimmjow says. Despite his leer, he doesn’t fight when Ichigo pulls his arm away- just lets his fingers trail over his wrist. Ichigo angles his head a little to let his chin cover his throat and narrows his eyes.

“My mistake, then.” He says. Grimmjow’s eyes narrow as well and his lip pulls up to hint at a snarl- well, two can play at that game, because Ichigo has better fangs than Grimmjow could dream of. He bares his teeth and snatches his headphone cord from the other boy’s hand. White snickers and urges Ichigo to flex his claws, to drop his shoulder and teach Grimmjow a lesson.

But the other boy lets him go, just watches him as he turns his back and limps away. His eyes burn into his back and Ichigo _wants._ Fuck, does he want.

 

Grimmjow keeps it up, and it’s driving Ichigo mad.

The problem is that Ichigo can’t even explain _what_ Grimmjow is doing. Sure, Ichigo can feel his eyes’ on him, but Grimmjow doesn’t try to push any boundaries. He gives Ichigo leering grins and watches him and leaves it at that, which means Ichigo can’t do jack shit, other than watch him back.

And watch him he does- they have PE together, so Ichigo gets to see Grimmjow in shorts, gets to watch him run and lift and flex all of his delicious muscles. It sends a lot of conflicting messages, because White sees Grimmjow as both a threat and something to play with, entertain itself with, and Ichigo sees him as a really, really hot guy. A really hot guy that Ichigo wants to run his tongue and hands all over. And maybe punch him in the mouth.

“You busy, Ichigo?” Grimmjow asks, instantly sending a low surge of heat down Ichigo’s spine. He glances at the other boy and tucks his headphones back in his pocket even as he nudges White’s irritated snarls back. They’re alone on the street, the courtyard of the school emptying out several hundred yards behind them.

“Not really, no.” Ichigo knows he can’t ignore Grimmjow forever, and there’s not any reason to. He wants to engage, wants to have those eyes on him, those hands on him again. It’s more than a little queer, to be honest. At this point Ichigo is willing to admit he’s kind of gay.

“We can do homework together, or whatever nerdy shit you get up to on your own.” Grimmjow says easily, grinning at Ichigo’s irritable glare. He grins wider when Ichigo only huffs and keep walking towards his house, falling into step with his slow, lurching pace without comment. He walks close enough that his arm brushes against Ichigo and every touch just makes him want it more.

“I’m home, ‘Zu, Karin! I have a friend.” Ichigo calls into the house. Grimmjow swings the door shut behind them and looks around in interest. He follows suit when Ichigo toes off his shoes and sticks close to his back as they step out of the entrance hallway.

Yuzu calls something from the kitchen and Karin doesn’t bother to get up from the couch, so Ichigo waves Grimmjow to follow after him up the stairs. He doesn’t really feel self-conscious of his room, though he knows it’s pretty small. It’s _his_ room, private and safe, and that’s all that matters. It does kindle a growl low in his throat to see Grimmjow in the middle of it, though, and he’s not sure if it’s pleased or displeased.

“We can work on my bed.” Ichigo says, dropping his bag by the head of the bed. Grimmjow splays himself out like a cat, legs spread and eyes half lidded as he surveys the room like he owns it. Ichigo wants to put his hands all over him but instead settles stiffly a short distance from him, digs his thumb into his sore thigh muscles with a sigh. Grimmjow watches with thinly veiled interest. Ichigo is sure Grimmjow knows about the car accident from the summer- pretty much the entire school knows, after all.

He keeps his head down and works on his homework even though he has a feeling Grimmjow was just being a dick earlier. He feels eyes on his head intermittently, as if Grimmjow keeps glancing at him, but refuses to look up in case he invites conversation.

Of course, that doesn’t stop Grimmjow.

“You have weirdass eyes.” Grimmjow says, leaning closer. He does have a few papers out on his lap and is scribbling into a notebook, so he’s at least trying to work. Ichigo can respect his self-control and decides to entertain him. He’s a bit like a small child, or White, Ichigo is starting to realize. White snarls in displeasure but remains oddly quiet.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” Ichigo says, propping his chin on a fist. He flutters his eyelashes at Grimmjow demurely, who snorts.

“Lemme see, hold still-” Grimmjow mumbles, catching his wrist in his hand and moving closer. He gets too close, close enough that his breath washes over Ichigo’s cheek and White growls in warning. It’s easy to ignore, though, because Grimmjow is staring into his eyes with determination and a focus that’s kind of adorable. Ichigo opens his eyes wide for him and tries not to flinch away when a gentle thumb peels down his lower lid.

“When the light catches your eyes shine kinda like a cat.” Grimmjow says. He angles his head a little and leans closer, his eyebrows furrowed cutely where they tilt upwards. Ichigo’s mouth twists in amusement as White shrieks his displeasure.

**_i’m a fucking demon who does he think he is_ **

_Chill out, dude, he’s right. You’re just sensitive._

**_i’m not fucking sensitive_ **

“Have they always been like this?” Grimmjow asks, cutting off White’s discordant wailing. His thumb releases Ichigo’s eyelid and smooths over the skin under it, tracing the deep shadows that have become permanent. Ichigo shrugs in response. He can’t exactly say that they’re because he came back from Hell.

“Fuckin’ weird, dude.” Grimmjow says, finally releasing his face and leaning back. Ichigo immediately misses the contact but shrugs it off, rolling his eyes and pointedly looking down at the wrist Grimmjow still had in his grasp. The other boy just grins with his teeth and shifts his grip, rubbing his fingers over his arm.

Ichigo knows he could easily pull himself free- he could break Grimmjow’s arm without even trying very hard. Instead he just sighs softly and wiggles his arm a little, lets Grimmjow have his fun with holding onto him. It’s when he sneers in victory, closing his fingers tighter until they pinch over bone, that Ichigo loses his patience and snarls. He rips his arm away easily and pushes Grimmjow away- who retaliates by launching himself forward and tackling Ichigo flat to the bed.

His breath is punched out of him with an _oomph_ and a wheeze as Grimmjow lands on him with a broad shoulder. His hands are quickly caught but Ichigo doesn’t let Grimmjow pin him just yet- he slams his elbow into his jaw with carefully controlled strength and then tries to jam his knee between their bodies. Grimmjow growls in a way that gives Ichigo a shiver of excitement and flattens his hips down, forcing Ichigo’s legs down and around him. They scrabble briefly before Ichigo lets his hands get pinned at the wrists.

Grimmjow leans over him with a savage grin, his eyes bright and cheeks red with breathless excitement. Ichigo finds himself enraptured with the way it transforms his entire face.

“What’re you gonna do now, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow asks, arching over him, and Ichigo snorts and then frowns.

“When did I become ‘Kurosaki’?” He asks, shifting his hips just to see the way Grimmjow’s jaw tightens. He grins up at him that’s more to bear his teeth and remind Grimmjow how close he is to his throat, but the other boy’s eyes just settle on his lips with a heavy gaze.

When Grimmjow kisses him Ichigo leans up to meet him. His mouth is hot and wet against his and Ichigo licks at his lower lip, curious and asking, and Grimmjow tilts his head a little more and presses down. It feels so, so good to be pinned down, to have Grimmjow’s heavy weight on his body. He gives a happy roll of his shoulders and sighs at the way Grimmjow reflexively tightens his grip on his wrists.

“Fuckin’ hell, Ichigo.” Grimmjow rasps, pulling back enough to look into his eyes. Ichigo licks his lips slowly and smiles at the way the other boy tracks the movement.

“You taste good.” He says, arches his back a little. He notices that White’s finally shut up and is just purring in the back of his mind.

His words seem to please Grimmjow, who nudges his nose under Ichigo’s jaw and pushes his head back to get at his exposed throat. It’s hard not to stiffen or snarl, and he forces himself to relax under Grimmjow’s questing mouth. When he lets go of White’s instincts it’s easy to enjoy the lick and suck of his lips, the nip of his teeth. There’s a sharp clamp of teeth and Ichigo moans, turns his head and shivers as Grimmjow laves his tongue over the bitten flesh.

“You taste pretty damn good, too.” He rumbles, pressing down on Ichigo and rolling his hips. It sends a punch of arousal up Ichigo’s spine and he gasps, shifts his feet through their scattered homework to get a better source of leverage so he can move his hips upwards too. Grimmjow grunts and bites down again, catching a tendon in Ichigo’s neck and worrying it between sharp teeth. Fuck- _fuck_ does it feel good.

Ichigo can feel Grimmjow’s dick against the inside of his thigh and wants more- he throws his head back further even as he jerks his hips upwards for more friction, and Grimmjow takes the invitation for what it is. He leaves the spit damp spot he had been working on and sucks at the fragile skin under Ichigo’s jaw. The ache of the burgeoning bruises adds to the heat building between his hips.

Grimmjow pulls back for a breather and Ichigo sees his chance- he breaks free of his hold in one easy movement and knots one hand in the wild blonde hair at the base of his neck, using it to tug the other boy down. His mouth finds pale, unblemished flesh as his other hand dives up Grimmjow’s shirts, roving over muscles that are better than Ichigo had pictured.

Grimmjow lets out a groan as Ichigo catches a mouthful of skin and bites almost enough to break skin- he can feel White’s instincts urging him on, encouraging him to taste his blood and lick it from his skin- but Ichigo just manages to hold off.

He rolls his hips up and _grinds_ into Grimmjow, clamping his teeth down on a new spot and reveling in the twisted moan it gets him. He drags his hand down the flinching, twitching muscles of his front, fingernails dragging red lines over the tough flesh. Ichigo wants Grimmjow to really use those muscle, wants him to pin him down and work him over, fuck him until he can’t breathe- he doesn’t know where these urges came from and he doesn’t really give a shit, just _wants._

“Grim-” He murmurs, licking a broad strip up his throat, and a full-bodied shudder goes through Grimmjow. He pulls back with wide eyes and pants overtop Ichigo for a moment, his lips swollen and red. His hips hitch in little grinding movements like he can’t quite control himself.

“Wanna stay for dinner?” Ichigo asks, scraping his nail over one of Grimmjow’s nipples to see his shudder and gasp. The other boy squeezes his eyes shut and White revels in the obvious struggle in control shown in Grimmjow’s clenched jaw.

“Only if you’re on the menu.” Grimmjow rumbles, thrusting his hips down again before sealing his lips over Ichigo’s.

_Yeah, he could get used to this._


	2. how much hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is fucking ridiculous.” Ichigo mutters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where the animal mutilation/death and self harm comes into play. theres some really intense scenes of depersonalization/disassociation and self hatred going along, with really graphic depictions of gore. please be real careful as you're reading.
> 
> chapter title is from "in the animal garden of my body"  
> https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/animal-garden-my-body
> 
> "How much the underbelly of my garden held to bring forth spring, how much hunger I had to devour to get the sweetness I wanted from it. Did this devouring frighten you? I frightened myself in how much I promised to tell you if you asked me again...Ask me again what I offered as a sacrifice to the rooster crowing his betrayal of morning. Forgiveness, what a sharp blade I press my body hard against."

**_nibbling nipping gnawing              his skin                 picking peeling clawing_ **

**_pain teasing his                fingers cutting off                   slivers bit by bit by bit by bit by bit                   hot fire in his ears filling his head                                coming out his nose_ **

**_claws digging into flesh                  hooking on bone                 teasing               and tugging hung suspended by                his own                     ligaments            tendons               muscles               bones                 flesh                     stripped and pulled off chewed like                                                     rawhide_ **

  


“I just don’t fuckin’ get it- why can’t I do this report in Russian if the fuckin’ book is in Russian?” Grimmjow snarls, grinding his closed fist into his temple. Ichigo catches his wrist and tugs his hand away before the other boy bruises himself and instead takes his phone to peer at what he was looking at. The email from their literature professor is short and rather curt- telling Grimmjow that he is in Japan, attending a Japanese school, and will turn in a report in Japan regardless of the language of the material he’s reporting on.

“Well, he can’t read Russian.” Ichigo offers, rubbing his fingers over Grimmjow’s hand in an effort to get him to relax. Grimmjow just bears his teeth and drops his phone onto the bed, turning back to the book and notebook in his lap. He glares down like he’s trying to set them on fire.

Ichigo looks at him for a moment, considers the amount of effort he wants to put into this. He’s exhausted. He’s fucking exhausted, kept up by nightmares despite White purposefully putting him to sleep, exhausted by schoolwork and working part time and entertaining this new _thing_ with Grimmjow. Ichigo’s running on fumes, but Grimmjow is getting upset in a way that’ll end with split knuckles if he doesn’t intervene, and he wants to avoid that.

“C’mere, Grim,” Ichigo mumbles, shoving his books off his lap and tugging at his shirt. Grimmjow snarls at him with a jerk of his head that sends his blonde hair askew over his forehead and Ichigo could pull away- Ichigo could blow him off, could growl and yell back, but he’s tired and he can see the stress lines around Grimmjow’s eyes.

“Grim, please.” He tries again. He tangles his hand in the loose material of Grimmjow’s shirt and pulls harder, pulls until the other boy goes with it and lets his schoolwork tumble off his lap. He slumps onto Ichigo and wiggles onto his stomach, digging his chin into Ichigo’s sternum with a grimace and forcing him to part his legs around Grimmjow’s chest. The pout he gives Ichigo is adorable, cute in the way only his plush lips and furrowed brows are cute. Ichigo cradles his head in his hands and smooths his fingers through the wild hair, half-smiling at the way Grimmjow’s eyes immediately begin to drop shut and he leans into the contact.

The week since they’ve “gotten together” (read here: rubbed each other out over their clothes and had dinner like nothing happened) has revealed a number of things about the two of them. Ichigo is pretty sure Grimmjow doesn’t have a single positive relationship other than him, because everytime he touches the other boy he acts unsure and surprised and gets a guilty expression like he doesn’t deserve it. Approximately 0.2 seconds later, though, he’ll melt into the contact like a cat. For a tactile person like Ichigo it’s very, very nice.

He’s also sure Grimmjow doesn’t actually know how to interact with him. It’s White who clued him into it- the strange way Grimmjow watches him, the weight of his gaze and the way he defaults to anger when Ichigo does something unexpected. Sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s what Ichigo wants, but other times it’s heartbreaking. Like now.

Ichigo is just rubbing his thumbs over Grimmjow’s eyebrows, tracing his eye sockets and scratching lightly with his other fingers where they rest in his hair, and Grimmjow is acting like he doesn’t know what to do. His brows are furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut, mouth twisted like he’s seconds from pulling away. Ichigo wants to rub all of the guilt and uncertainty away.

“You can relax, Grim.” Ichigo murmurs, raising his eyebrow when Grimmjow wrinkles his nose and sticks his tongue out. His lip curls up so his teeth are bared in a threat that Ichigo doesn’t bother to take seriously. Instead he starts rubbing his thumbs in small circles over the other boy’s temples, smoothing his fingers behind his ears to gently scratch through his hair.

It takes only a few minutes for Grimmjow to relax, to slump against Ichigo’s stomach and wrap his arms around him. His breathing evens out slowly but surely. Ichigo can feel himself relaxing as well, lulled into sleep from the warmth and pressure Grimmjow provides. White joins in and starts purring- for once not making fun of his fondness for Grim, not hissing threats at the other boy. Ichigo nods off facing the sunset coming through his window, mind filled with blonde hair painted pink and gold by the sun.

  


“Kurosaki. We need to have a conversation.” Ishida says, standing over his desk. Ichigo blinks up at him and rubs his eyes with a shaking hand. White raises it’s hackles at the way Ishida leans over him and Ichigo imitates the gesture of running a hand down a testy cat’s back to get it to settle down.

“Yeah, sure, Uryu.” Ichigo mumbles, head falling back to his crossed arms. He blinks up at the hazy black-pale blurr above him.

 **_you shouldn’t agree King he’s just going to be a dick to you_ **White hisses, paces like oppressive thunder and barely contained rage. Ichigo pushes down the urge to snap at it.

“I’ll speak with you at lunch.” Ishida says stiffly. He steps away quickly and takes his seat, and Ichigo wonders about the quick getaway when another shadow falls over him.

“What did the tight-dressed turd want?” Grimmjow asks, leaning against Ichigo’s desk. His hands clench where his arms cross over his chest, the only sign that he wants to reach and touch him but isn’t sure. Ichigo forces his eyes to remain open.

“Wanted t’talk.” He mumbles, relaxing at the presence and smell of Grimmjow so close. They haven’t known each other nearly long enough for Ichigo to feel so comfortable around him, but here they are. He finds himself nodding off anytime the other boy is around him.

Grimmjow doesn’t respond or give any sign he cares, just sneers in Ishida’s direction before slumping into his seat. He hunches over angrily and Ichigo stares at his back, stares at the tense line of his shoulders. He blinks uncomprehendingly. Did he do something wrong? Did he do something to upset him?

Class jumps by in weird blanks. He picks up words from the teacher, picks up glances from Orihime, but there’s a buzzing in his head and a consistent vertigo that makes it feel like the entire room is tilting to the right. He falls asleep for the last few minutes and startles awake when a hand closes around his.

“Time for math, c’mon, dipstick.” Grimmjow mumbles, tugging on Ichigo’s wrist with an insistent but gentle grasp. Ichigo drags himself out of his desk and scrubs a hand over his face. He lets Grimmjow drag him along, lets him shove him into his seat and move him around. White is oddly quiet- it’s doing a lot of the work to keep Ichigo awake, keep him moving and responding, and before he knows it it’s lunch.

Ishida is up on the roof just as Ichigo had guessed, and he drops to the ground in an ungraceful heap next to him. His stomach is roiling with nausea that prompts him to set aside the bento box Yuzu made for him and slump into the warm concrete instead. It feels heavenly against his throbbing head. Ishida picks through his food with long fingered grace for a few more minutes before sighing and setting his chopsticks aside.

“Ichigo, I’m worried about your health.” He finally says. Ichigo blinks at him. White makes a _pbbbt_ noise like it’s blowing a raspberry.

“You’re struggling to stay awake during the day. Your balance and motor control have suffered from your sleep deprivation, and you’ve lost weight. You’re ripping the skin around your nails apart.” Ishida sets his lunch down with a _snick_ of ceramic against concrete. He turns to Ichigo with a flat, furious expression on his face that’s at odds with his tightly controlled voice.

“I- Uryu, I get that you’re concerned-” Ichigo begins to say slowly, but Ishida cuts him off with a swift motion of his hand. Ichigo stiffens and Ishida sees it- Ichigo knows Ishida sees it because his eyebrows smooth out, his mouth relaxes but for the single tick in the corner. Ichigo takes a deep breath and pushes back a little until his spine is flush to the fence behind them. White is suddenly sharply aware in his mind, hackles raised and claws prickling in preparation. Ishida seems startled.

“Ichigo, I-” Ishida takes a deep breath and slowly, carefully, lifts his hand to press his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I’m worried about you. About your health and this new thing you have with the transfer student.”

Ichigo feels like he’s swallowed ice.

“Thing?” He asks.

“Of course we’ve all noticed- you have these marks on your neck, he sulks around you like a sullen guard dog. You haven’t seen it but he looks at you like- like-” Ishida’s voice had slowly risen until he’s damn near shouting, his hands grasping for words just like his mind. Ichigo feels like something is closing around his windpipe.

“Why the hell are you worrying about me and Grimmjow?” He asks, and he knows his voice is defensive and too loud but- “What’s wrong with me having a relationship?”

“There’s nothing _wrong_ with you having a relationship, Ichigo, it’s the _with whom_ that is concerning!” Ishida’s raised voice is like a cracked whip across the quiet roof. Ichigo has to bite down on his tongue, swallow back the blood from the punctures his teeth make to keep from snarling at Uryu like a cornered animal.

“He is a deviant, a _punk!_ He picks fights and is disrespectful, he acts like he’s the most important person here! I just feel he isn’t _good_ for-”

“He isn’t _good_ for me?” Ichigo asks, disbelieving, and he has to swallow back his ire and the thick chill that’s pressing into his chest like needles. “Do you hear yourself?”

“You don’t see it, Ichigo,” Ishida snarls, and Ichigo grapples with White to hold it back, to keep it pressed down. “The way he looks at you like- like- like he _owns_ you, like no one else has any right to be near you but _him,_ and it’s-”

“None of your _business!_ ” Ichigo shouts, drawing his body upright. “It’s none of your business, Uryu, _okay?_ Me and Grim are- we’re figuring this out on our own and I get that you’re worried about me but it’s- it’s not needed.” He suddenly deflates, exhausted from the burst of emotion, light-headed.

“Ichigo, I didn’t mean to-” Ishida starts to say, but White takes advantage of his moment of weakness and surges forward, it’s furious, discordant voice ripping between his ears deafeningly. It rings and buzzes and bounces around his skull until everything else is whited out and Ichigo has to squeeze his eyes shut.

**_he doesn’t have a right he doesn’t get to talk he’s wrong he’s wrong he’s wrong bite him BITE RIP TEAR FIGHT HIM FIGHT HIM BITE KILL HIM KILL HIM CONSUME_ **

Ichigo presses his hands to his face and drags in a sharp inhale. Fuck- _calm down White please you’re too loud everything is alright Uryu is just worried please calm down I can’t hear-_

Hands grab his shoulders and press him down, push him back until he’s sitting, a pressure on the back of his head curling it between his folded knees. White hisses at the contact but wraps itself around Ichigo and purrs in fitful bursts to try and offer comfort, a reprieve from the pain. As White’s fury abates, so does the noise in his head.

“-need to take deep breaths, I’m right here with you, Ichigo, you just need to breath and calm down.” A cool hand presses against his cheek and Ichigo uses it to ground himself, even though it’s not the warm hand that he wants. He drags in a breath deep enough to hurt and pulls his hands from his face, resisting the urge to drag his nails down his skin. His heart is hammering in his chest.

 **_king king king king king king king king_ **White whines, purrs discordantly, rubbing and butting up against the sore and aching parts of his mind. It’s a little pathetic, honestly, that the demon that had cracked his skull open is what’s putting it all back together.

“I’m okay, Uryu, it’s just a headache.” Ichigo says. His voice comes out flat and hoarse.

“When was the last time you slept well?” Ishida asks. Ichigo presses his cheek into his knee and breathes, lets the darkness of the inside of his eyelids sooth the pain still digging into his temple.

“I don’t know.” He mumbles, feels a sharp sting as he twists his nail viciously into the scabs along his thumbnail. It’s easiest to sleep with Grimmjow, to catch naps in the afternoon when the other boy is there to be a secure weight and warmth against him. The night is too dark and full of nightmares.

“I think you need to speak with your father about sleeping medication.” Ishida says, and presses down with his hand to keep Ichigo from lifting his head. “Just think about it, okay?” He waits until Ichigo makes a noise of agreement and then lets up on his hold, returning to his seat to resume his lunch. Ichigo keeps digging at his thumb until blood runs down his finger.

  


“This is fucking ridiculous.” Ichigo mutters, poking at his lower eyelid with a scowl. The sclera of his right eye looks back at him flooded with blood, the red merging with his iris and pooling in over half of his eye. White’s little temper tantrum burst a shitload of veins in his eye and under, so now he looks like he got hit by a nasty hook.

Ichigo sighs and starts digging through the drawers below the bathroom sink. His skin is a little darker than Yuzu or Karin’s so it’ll look weird if he uses their concealer, but there’s no way he’s walking into school with a shiner like this.

 **_stop being such a pussy_ **White grumbles. It had been churlish ever since it’s meltdown earlier in the day when it had freaked out about what Ishida said, and refused to admit it cared about Grimmjow despite Ichigo’s needling.

Finally digging the makeup bag out of the landfill of their bathroom drawer, Ichigo rifles through it until he unearths the concealer Karin uses in the summer. It’s a few shades too light, just as he had thought, but it beats a black eye. He’s stuffing all of the miscellaneous makeup back into the little bag when he catches sight of an unopened pack of eyeliner. There’s two pencils in it, a rich, brilliant gold and a stunning blue that instantly makes him think of Grimmjow. The pack is labeled “Ocean Treasures” which is corny as fuck, but he only gives it a moment of thought before he’s stuffing it into his pocket with the concealer.

The bathroom has only just been returned to the original order when Yuzu yells up to him for dinner. Ichigo steps out and manages to catch an unaware Karin in a headlock, who kicks him viciously in the shins and accuses him of domestic abuse. He digs his fist into her head and cackles at her weak blows, threatening to lick her ear as they _thump thump thump_ down the stairs.

“Ichi-nii, stop tormenting Karin!” Yuzu pleads, but there’s a wicked glint in her eyes as she rounds the table. Her fingers curl into little claws as she descends on her sister’s unprotected sides. The ear splitting scream that follows definitely shatters a lightbulb or two.

“So, want me to tell you why you two attempted to murder dear Karin?” Their father asks, five minutes later. Ichigo and Yuzu exchange glances. “I mean, there are plenty of reasons, I was just wondering what set the two of you off this time.”

Karin makes a sound like a rabid cat choking on a hairball.

 

Dinner is good, Ichigo can’t lie- everything Yuzu makes is good. But his stomach sits cramped and tight under his ribs, and he can only manage a few bites of it before he’s swallowing against his nausea. It makes him mad enough that he keeps eating, even though it hurts, and he snarls obscenities in Hebrew in his head. White senses his growing bad mood and feeds into it eagerly.

Eventually he concedes defeat, promising Yuzu that the meal was really good, he just isn’t feeling very well- and as he cleans his dish in the sink, his father and sisters share looks of growing concern.

“I’m gonna go for a walk, see if I can tire myself out for tonight.” He tells his dad sometime later, heading for the door and his shoes. Yuzu and Karin are both in their room as far as he knows.

“Sure thing, Ichigo.” Isshin says easily. His eyes are critical as they do a onceover of his son- taking note of the hollows in his collarbones, the sharpness of his jaw and the way his usually fitted shirt hangs a little loose. He pulls a smile onto his face as his son looks up at him.

“Don’t stay out too late, now.”

Ichigo gives a wave over his shoulder as he stuffs his feet into his sneakers. The evening air is just cooling down, warm enough from leftover summer that it’s pleasant to be out in a t-shirt and shorts. Ichigo curls his fingers into his pockets and tries to breathe deep enough to offset the pain in his stomach. He sets off towards the park- the walk isn’t too long, he should be back before nightfall.

White comes alive as the day darkens. It yips and coos at every little thing, enjoying the attention Ichigo finally pays it, until he’s finally forced to sit down from the pain of the cramps. He splays out in the grass and keeps his breathing even. _Fuck,_ it’d be nice if Grimmjow was here. If he wasn’t having fucking period cramps they could wrestle in the cool grass, or kiss until their jaws ached, or sleep. Ichigo tugs his phone out of his pocket and frowns. Grimmjow should be done with his part-time job within the next twenty minutes. Maybe he’d pay a visit.

A sudden stab of pain startles Ichigo into dropping his phone and curling into a ball, gasping into the damp grass as his throat works viciously. He swallows and swallows and tries to keep his stomach steady, but he ends up vomiting the meal Yuzu made for him anyway. It tastes _nasty,_ like bile and acid and rotting things, and Ichigo spits between his ragged breaths. Fuck. Maybe it’s a good thing that Grimmjow had to work after school.

Ichigo shifts away from the small puddle of vomit in the grass and curls his arms around his knees. His stomach still hurts, maybe worse than before- there’s a sharp curve of hunger hidden behind the cramps. He presses down with a flat hand and flinches at the starburst pain that flares across his abdomen. Damnit. God _damnit._ He’s going to have to call his dad to come get him.

There’s a rustle behind him.

Ichigo whips his head around so fast his neck cracks and stares into the dark shrubs that surround him. He opens his eyes wide, encourages them to adjust to the lack of light, and feels White’s curiosity prick at his own as his vision sharpens. Everything is still for a few moments and Ichigo wonders if he’s just going crazy- and then the bushes rustle again, and a squirrel appears from between the branches.

There’s a thought-feel-taste of **_FOOD_** and                                 Ichigo is pushing himself forward before he thinks it through and              White is shrieking and clawing in his mind and                  ** _FOOD FOOD FOOD SO HUNGRY FOOD_** and                             a short chase, too short to enjoy and                                     _living thing heat_ and                                        fragile bones crunching and                _meat flesh warm alive_ ** _so hungry so hungry tastes so good_** and

And Ichigo blinks and stares down at the mutilated carcass in his hands.

The squirrel’s neck is broken, twisted so brutally the bones rip through it’s skin, it’s head dangling and eyes wide. The stomach is ripped open and organs trail from the cradle of it’s ribcage like ribbed noodles. Blood splatters across the torn fur and up to Ichigo’s wrists. He can taste the blood in his mouth, on his tongue, he can taste the silky warmth of the organs and it tastes _so fucking good,_ and the cramps have finally stopped and White is purring in pleasure and- and-

Ichigo turns and vomits, spattering the dark leaves and his own shoes- looks down at his hands and vomits again. He’s shaking, shaking so badly and- and the squirrel’s body is still in his hands so he flings it away where he hears a _squish_ as it hits something and he- he turns and runs, vaults a bench and runs, tears and terror blinding him. White is screaming at him but Ichigo ignores it because _fuck_ he just killed a squirrel and fucking ate it what the fuck, _what the fuck, what has he done fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-_

A solid branch slams into his mouth and chin and floors him. His head hits the ground with a _thunk_ that seems to reverberate through his entire body, echoes tuning into the tremors that already shake him. Ichigo stares up at the foliage above and drags in a twisted inhale, hears the sob that bursts out of his chest- and then stops feeling.

His body keeps crying, keeps bleeding, and Ichigo just lays on the ground and stares at the sky.

 

Sometime later he makes himself get up.

His entire body feels shaky and disconnected. Ichigo has to stare down at his feet to make sure they’re still there, that they’re _his._ He walks back to the street slowly. His head feels- far away, like he’s just watching all of this through a TV screen. This is his body, right? He’s real? What’s happening to him?

 _White?_ Ichigo asks, feels how small his voice is in the domain of the demon.

 **_keep walking King_ **is all he gets, so he does. He keeps walking.

He comes to the bushes where he killed the squirrel but doesn’t feel anything, can’t feel anything beyond the yawning emptiness in his chest. Ichigo picks up his phone and tucks it into his pocket and keeps walking.

Eventually his house comes into sight. Ichigo’s not sure how long he’s been walking; certainly a while, given how dark it is. The moon is a thin crescent in the sky. He keeps his steps light as he slips inside, kicks off his shoes and locks the door. His father isn’t on the couch so Ichigo goes straight upstairs and turns on the shower. White pushes at him, needles like a small, fur covered skull butting against his hand, and the feeling starts to pull the warmth back into his limbs. Ichigo doesn’t know how long he stands in front of the mirror as steam fills the room.

 **_move it King we don’t have all night_ **White urges, tries to push him away from the mirror, but Ichigo steps closer and lifts a shaking, gore coated hand to the steamy surface. He wipes it clean and stares at his reflection.

He’s covered in blood. It’s smeared across his mouth and chin, splatters his nose and cheeks, follows the curve of his throat. His hands and wrists are red too. His shirt, a light grey, is streaked in it.

With jerky movements, Ichigo turns from the mirror and tugs his shirt off. He steps out of his socks and pulls down his shorts and underwear. He steps into the hot spray of the shower and slowly sinks to his knees. He forces himself to take a deep breath as red swirls down the drain and- with a scream building in his throat- sinks his teeth into the inside of his forearm.

More blood fills his mouth quickly and overflows, spilling down his chin and down his wrist to pool over his thighs, but Ichigo just clenches his jaw tighter. He screams, and screams, and finally rips his teeth from his arm when he runs out of breath. Blood drips from his mouth and the shredded bite wound in his arm. What has he done? What the fuck has he done?

 **_it’s just a squirrel calm down_ ** White snaps, obviously irritated **_you feel better now don’t you your stomach doesn’t hurt_ **

Ichigo presses a wet hand to his stomach just like he did when he was laying in the grass. White is right; the pressure doesn’t bring any pain, there are no cramps- despite vomiting several times and eating a raw fucking squirrel, his stomach feels _fine._

 _No- no fucking way,_ Ichigo tells White. _There’s no fucking way I’m going to keep killing and eating wild animals raw, there’s no fucking way._

 **_pussy_ ** White snarls **_i should have fucking taken your body then this wouldn’t be such a fucking problem_ **

_You’re the one causing these problems_ Ichigo snaps back. _You’re the reason I can’t sleep and can’t eat normal food, why I can’t just enjoy being around Grimmjow and my friends._

**_you think any of them would stick around if i wasn’t here? grimmjow only likes you because of me because i’m here making you stronger and fiercer and BIGGER he wouldn’t have spared you a second thought if not for me behind your eyes_ **

_Shut up! Shut up, White, fucking hell you’re wrong, you’re wrong and I’m sick and tired of you!_ Ichigo brings his trembling hands to his head, squeezes his eyes shut against the hot water pelting him. _Fuck,_ White is wrong, it’s wrong about all of that- Grimmjow likes _him_ not the fucking demon, he’s attracted to _him,_ his friends like him and his family loves him and- and White is a fucking demon from _Hell, what the fuck do you know about attraction and love and friendship?_ Ichigo asks it.

There’s only a wave of **_ANGER HATRED FURY WHO NEEDS FRIENDS EAT KILL FIGHT DEATH WHO NEEDS YOU WHO NEEDS YOU FIGHT KILL EAT CONSUME_ **and Ichigo hits his temple with his fist in an attempt to stop the riotous pain rocking his head. White hisses and snarls and withdraws into the backspace of his mind. It curls there, furious and seething with the taste of ash and blood and sand against eyelids, and Ichigo lets it be.

He scrubs at his hands and wrists until they’re raw and torn. He’s only a little gentler with his face, mainly because his lips and chin are busted up from hitting the branch. He can’t believe he was actually clotheslined by a fucking tree, but Ichigo supposes this night has been really fucking wild already.

Ichigo forces himself to accept what he did, crouching in the shower and pressing fingers against the jagged bite in his arm. He killed and ate part of a squirrel, and part of him _liked_ it. Part of him revelled in the chase, in killing it and tasting the still-hot blood and meat. The jelly-like organs had been the best. He knows this, he accepts what he did. But he’s not going to do it again. Ichigo had turned into an animal, something he didn’t recognize in those moments, and he won’t let it happen another time. If he has to steal raw beef or chicken from the fridge to stay alive, he’ll do it, but nothing as savage and cruel as what happened tonight.

His mind made up, Ichigo carefully and gingerly finishes his shower. His face and arm seem to throb with a pain that echoes through his entire body. He wipes the mirror clear of steam and stares at the damage the branch had done- his lower lip is split clean through, surely needing stitches, and there’s an ugly scrape and bruise quickly forming just below it. He’s lucky he didn’t lose teeth.

 **_not lucky_ **White spits. Ichigo ignores it.

Hopefully his dad will be able to stitch it before school tomorrow and won’t ask too many questions. He really is a sight now, isn’t he? Orange hair, scowl, black eye and split lip- just like the punk everyone calls him. The fucking school is gonna have a field day with this. Might as well give himself some piercings.

Ichigo dabs some antibacterial cream on his lip and chin and then liberally spreads it over the bite on his arm. That probably needs stitches as well, though there’s no way in hell he’s going to show it to his dad. He’ll just have to keep it bandaged and let it scar.

Hours after dinner Ichigo finally curls under his blankets. He feels exhausted but also rejuvenated, an overloaded livewire. It pisses him off that he can feel this good after taking a couple bites out of a fucking squirrel.

His phone buzzes from the desk where it’s charging and startles Ichigo. He thumbs the screen open and peers at the messages through the cracked screen. When had that happened?

 **grim** **(ﾐⓛᆽⓛﾐ)✧** **: got tomorrow off. U busy?**

Ichigo smiles and rolls onto his back as he quickly responds. Even the throbbing pain in his mouth doesn’t dampen his mood, and for a few moments he can forget about the entire debacle tonight has been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please. do not eat raw animals. for the love of god. you really shouldn't be eating raw meat but especially not that of wild animals.


	3. in silence it is waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> White’s presence is sour and biting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some quick things i'm sure you guys have noticed:  
> -ichigo is now a trans guy (i didn't even think of this until someone commented it!! so thank you for the idea!) which means that there will be a scene of sexual content between ichigo and grim where this is readily apparent. if that makes you uncomfortable, just skip it.  
> -there are now 4 chapters! yay??? i just felt like there wasn't a way for me to include everything i wanted to with only 3 chapters, so chapter 4 will hopefully enable me to wrap this up nicely!
> 
> chapter title is from "the monster beneath the bed"  
> https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-monster-beneath-the-bed/
> 
> "What is that you're seeing  
> in the corner of your eye  
> Stealthful foot steps following  
> never passing by
> 
> In the corner of the mirror  
> watching when you blink  
> It is patient and silent  
> and deadlier than you think"

His dad sutures his lip without much fanfare. Ichigo has to get up earlier than usual to sit through the familiar yet still uncomfortable _tug tug tug_ on his lower lip. He gets some local anaesthetic- probably because he looks like absolute shit- so the actual pain of the suture needle is replaced by a deep pressure. His dad doesn’t ask any probing questions, just makes comments about the inherent clumsiness in Kurosaki men, and Ichigo suffers through the treatment without revealing that he ran face-first into a fucking tree branch.

After that, it’s smearing concealer over his black eye and the residual bruising around his mouth and chin. He still looks like a goddamn mess, his lip puffy and held together by a string of sutures, blood filling most of his right eye. He can’t help but wonder how Ishida and the others will take it, especially after the conversation from yesterday. Hell, how’s Grimmjow going to react?

Since he got up so early Ichigo makes it to school before the majority of students. He keeps his head down and gaze on his feet as he passes the other early-risers, hoping to avoid any attention for his appearance, and almost doesn’t notice when Grimmjow slips out of the shadows of the courtyard gate. The other boy falls into step beside him with a brush of his elbow, and Ichigo is surprised enough by the easy contact that he glances up with a start.

Grimmjow’s face goes still in an instant. His eyes are fixed on Ichigo’s split lip, his poorly concealed black eye, and as Ichigo watches his gaze hardens with every passing second. Without a word Grimmjow closes his hand around his backpack strap and hauls him away from the school entrance. They cut behind the corner of the building and go straight for the bathrooms on the backside of the school; hardly anyone uses them except during P.E. because of their inconvenient location.

Grimmjow shoulders the door open and pulls him straight to the handicapped stall at the far side- he doesn’t stop moving until Ichigo is up against the stall wall and the door is latched shut. When he rounds on him Ichigo feels the annoyance and anger at being dragged around fade quickly, because there’s something raw and desperate in his eyes that Ichigo’s never seen before.

“Who did this?” He asks, a hand going to Ichigo’s chin to hold him still and the other thumbing his lips open. He skirts the pad of his finger over the sutures lightly enough that it doesn’t hurt, but the heavy lines around his mouth and eyes promise violence.

“No one did it, Grimmjow,” Ichigo says, and he tries to get annoyed at Grimmjow’s over protectiveness, but- but there’s something _nice_ about being so cared and worried about. His chest and stomach feel warm and the skin under Grimmjow’s is feels electric.

“I went for a run last night when it was dark and I ran into a tree branch.”

Grimmjow gives him an incredulous look.

“You’re going with a tree branch? A fucking tree branch split your lip.” Grim says disbelievingly, and his fingers slip up to Ichigo’s busted eye. “And I bet your black eye is from a tree, too.”

“No, actually-” Ichigo snorts, reaching a hand up to pull at Grimmjow’s wrist. When the other boy’s hand doesn’t budge Ichigo just leaves it circling his forearm. “I had a panic attack and burst the veins in my eye.”

Grimmjow goes still at that, his thumb careful in it’s pressure under Ichigo’s eye. His other hand still cups his chin, his fingers half-covering Ichigo’s jaw and cheeks. He realizes he likes how big Grimmjow’s hands are.

“A panic attack and a fucking tree branch.” Grimmjow says, his tone peculiar and light, and Ichigo- Ichigo feels his stomach drop and twist as several things slot into place. His chest gets tight.

“Grim, I’m not getting beat up at home.” He says tightly, and feels the way Grimmjow’s entire body stiffens. “You met my dad and sisters- that wouldn’t happen.” He reaches out with his other hand and smooths it over Grimmjow’s stomach, gets a fistful of his uniform shirt and pulls him a little closer. Grimmjow goes with it but his lip is curling back in a snarl, his eyes narrowed and daring Ichigo to say anything.

This isn’t the place to have a conversation like this, Ichigo realizes, and instead he tugs Grimmjow’s hand down his face until it rests against his chest. He smooths his fingers over his knuckles and catches Grimmjow’s eyes. The other boy presses down a little with his hand and drags it over around his side, and Ichigo’s breathe hitches at the pressure he can feel through his binder.

Grimmjow relaxes a little and shuffles closer still. They’re pressed together from the waist down, their legs hot through their pants. It’s a nice distraction from the thick anger welling up in his chest- every time he thinks about the way Grimmjow hesitates to let him touch him, the way his eyes got hard and flinty, the careful way he smoothed his fingers over his purpled eye- it froths and spits in his throat and it’s the closest to hatred he’s gotten since some guys ganged up on Uryu and beat the shit out of him.

Ichigo forces himself to take a deep breath and relax under Grimmjow’s hands. The one on his chin shifts down his jaw and circles his throat, pushing down with a playful glint in Grimmjow’s eyes. The other keeps up its slow exploration as it traces the edge of his binder through his shirt.

“Am I still good to come over tonight?” Grimmjow asks, voice low and face close. His eyes go half-lidded as he noses at the spiky hair above Ichigo’s ear. The brush of his exhale sends goosebumps across his skin.

“Hm, yep.” Ichigo says. He tilts his face into Grimmjow’s and hums at the press of lips he gets. The hand that had been bunched in his uniform shirt flattens out and slides down, seeks out the untucked edges of his blouse and slipping under them. Grimmjow’s t-shirt is thin and body-heat warm, and Ichigo trails his fingers along the edge. His thumb rubs at the strip of flesh exposed until he feels Grimmjow’s abdominals shiver. There’s the lightest pressure against his thigh, a weight and heat Ichigo recognizes, and he bites back a smirk.

A quick step and turn has Grimmjow up against the side of the stall, who blinks and stares down at Ichigo with blown pupils. He licks his lips and Ichigo rolls his hips down a little, just enough to grind against the growing heat in Grimmjow’s pants. His eyes flutter and he jerks into the contact but Ichigo just steps away. He feels something hot and serpentine bolt down his spine at the hungry look in Grimmjow’s eyes- a hunger he has as well, he’s sure.

Ichigo darts out of the bathroom stall and laughs when he hears Grimmjow’s swear. With the speed he has now, there’s no way he’ll catch him until Ichigo stops running, and Ichigo can’t wait for that moment.

 

Ichigo skirts Grimmjow the entire day until he gets fed up with his own plan. He corners him on the walk to his house and nudges him into an alley, where Grimmjow boxes him in against the wall of it. He catches Ichigo’s mouth with almost desperation- his mouth is wet and warm, tongue curiously pressing and licking at his mouth, and Ichigo cradles the back of his skull in his hands. He loves the feeling of it, the tangle of hair around his fingers and the taste of Grimmjow’s mouth on his own. He lets him press him up against the warm bricks, wedge his thigh between Ichigo’s and roll his hips in a sinuous grind. It’s obviously payback for the bathroom stall.

“My house, just down the street-” Ichigo pants, his fingers spasming into Grimmjow’s hair as heat radiates from everywhere Grimmjow is touching him. His thigh is so firm and hot between his thighs and Ichigo _wants-_

“Can I-” Grimmjow nips and teases at his neck between his words. “Will you let me- for you-” and he presses his thigh a little more firmly up into Ichigo’s hips and Ichigo can only throw his head back against the brick wall and swallow a groan.

“Yes, _yes,_ my room-” Grimmjow steps back just enough for Ichigo to slide away, already desperate for the heat of his body again, and they sneak down back alleys hand-in-hand until Ichigo’s house finally comes into view. Ichigo doesn’t want to risk running into his dad so he shows Grimmjow the way up to his bedroom window using the trellis and first floor sills, jiggles the window open until they can collapse onto Ichigo’s bed.

Their school bags get dropped onto the floor and Grimmjow’s back on top of him. He pushes Ichigo’s thighs wide around his hips and rolls his entire body, heavy and hot and hard against him, and Ichigo almost rips his shirt in his hurry to get it off him, because- _damn._ He had forgotten how good Grimmjow’s muscles are, how they feel when they tighten and shift under his hand.

“C’mon, c’mon-” He mumbles, dropping his hands to the other boy’s pants and fumbling with the belt. Grimmjow grunts into his neck and catches a mouthful of flesh between his teeth, worrying and sucking at it until Ichigo drops his head back with a choked off groan. Grimmjow presses a little more, presses until the pain blinks across his neck, and then releases him and licks over the mark with a pleased noise.

“Ever heard of foreplay?” He asks, his voice deep and rumbling, and Ichigo arches his back and rubs himself up against the bulge in Grimmjow’s pants.

“That’s what this entire day was.” Ichigo gasps, and Grimmjow snorts in laughter before finally- _finally!-_ lifting a hand from where it was braced next to Ichigo’s head to undo his belt. Ichigo pushes his pants off him and palms his dick through his boxers, pleased by how hard it is and the hiss it gets him. It’s got him wet- wet enough he’s half worried about soaking through his pants- and he shoves his hand into Grimmjow’s boxers.

His hips buck at the brush of his fingers over his dick, and Ichigo drags his thumb over the tip, marveling at the slide of precum already there. He has a wet patch on his boxers, too.

Grimmjow bows his head low over Ichigo’s, his mouth hanging open and eyes shut, so Ichigo wraps his fingers around him and gives him a few strokes. He’s thick in his hand, hot against his palm, and for just a second he imagines Grimmjow fucking him- spreading him open hard, pressing into him, and Ichigo’s hips twitch at the rush of warmth that thought gets him.

 _“Fuck-”_ Grimmjow groans and bucks his hips forward more insistently, the muscles in his abdomen tightening and shivering. Ichigo rubs the pad of his thumb just under the head of his dick. He likes the twist to Grimmjow’s brows, the wet sheen of his lower lip. It sends slithers of heat down his abdomen.

“Ichigo-” Grimmjow suddenly drops his lower half against Ichigo’s and rocks himself forward. His dick slides right between Ichigo’s legs and he gives an open-mouthed whine, his hand reflexively squeezing around Grimmjow’s dick.

“Let me-” Grimmjow scrapes his teeth against the skin under his ear and startles another noise from him. “Let me eat you out, c’mon-”

Ichigo’s thighs squeeze together at that, a bolt of molten-lightning going down his spine, and he nods wildly as Grimmjow drags his hand down his chest. He helps with undoing his belt and shoving his pants down, arching his back when Grimmjow rubs his palm against his crotch through his briefs. There’s a wet patch that Ichigo can feel soaking down his ass.

“Fuck, so fucking wet.” Grimmjow sighs, rubbing his knuckles against the dampest patch, and Ichigo presses his teeth into the side of his hand to smother his shaky noises. He twitches his hips up when Grimmjow finally pulls his briefs down and swallows at the cool air against him.

“I’ve got you, just relax,” Grimmjow promises, looking up with his big, blue eyes, and presses his lips to the inside of Ichigo’s thigh. There isn’t a bite of teeth or anything harsh- his lips are gentle and wet, and Ichigo lets his spine relax into the mattress. He can feel the shiver of nerves all up and down his back, though, crawling over his arms, and he has to tangle his fingers in Grimmjow’s messy blond hair.

“You looked this up?” Ichigo asks, an amused lilt to his voice to cover the nerves, but Grimmjow stops for a moment and looks up at him with strange eyes.

“I did look this up, yeah,” Grimmjow says, and then he pushes himself up to lay himself on Ichigo’s stomach. He presses a kiss to his chin. “I looked it up at the library and read articles online for hours- I don’t wanna mess this up. I only want to make you feel good.”

Ichigo feels his face burn and he presses a hand to his eyes, turning away, but Grimmjow heaves himself up onto his elbows and tugs his hand away. His eyes are earnest and hard, but he gently presses his lips to the violent flush on his cheek.

“Let me?” Grimmjow murmurs. He rubs his nose along the arch of his cheek and into the sweaty tangles of his hair. Ichigo wants it, wants it so bad- Grimmjow’s tongue on him and his hands on his thighs, and all it takes is the feeling of Grimmjow’s still half-hard dick against his thigh for him to make his decision.

“Yeah, yeah-” He mutters breathlessly, sliding his hand down to Grimmjow’s chest. “Go ahead.”

He can feel Grimmjow’s smile against his skin and the other boy gives him a quick, hard kiss before slithering back down the length of his body. He fits Ichigo’s thighs over his shoulders and licks and kisses his way to the crease of his hip and thigh, worrying gently with his teeth. The shock of blonde hair above his own ginger curls heats up the low curl in his gut again, and the first press of lips to his clit punches a low moan out of him.

Grimmjow drags his tongue between his lips, broad and hot and wide, and swirls it gently in the hood of his clit. Ichigo knots his hands in Grimmjow’s hair without even realizing what he’s doing, but he just hums and sends white-hot vibrations through Ichigo’s hips.

“Grim-” Ichigo whines, arching his back to try and push his face deeper, and Grimmjow ducks a little to lick from his entrance to the top of his lips. He digs his tongue in harder in little circles and shifts an arm- and then there’s the tentative press of a finger to his entrance.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Grimmjow murmurs, voice deep and husky and his lips and chin shining wet, and Ichigo grunts as his finger presses in. He fists one hand in the sheets and twists hard, his body rocking with Grimmjow’s slow, synchronized movements, but the arm under his thigh holds him in place.

“Grim, c’mon- please, _please,_ shit-” Ichigo’s gasping for breath, his chest heaving under his binder and undershirt, and he presses his heels down to thrust back up into Grimmjow’s mouth. That wins him a hard suck on his clit, quick flicks of his tongue that add to the building, shivery pleasure in his belly, and Ichigo startles himself with the broken whimper that falls from his mouth when Grimmjow digs his tongue into him alongside his finger.

The other boy pulls back, pulls his wonderful, hot mouth from him and looks up with worried eyes. He’s opening his mouth to say something, probably ask if he’s alright, but Ichigo just moans into his shoulder and pushes his hips back towards him. Grimmjow’s gaze goes dark and heavy and he crooks his finger, rubbing at his walls before dropping his mouth again.

Seemingly having found his groove, Grimmjow thrusts his finger in shallow, even motions as he licks and sucks at Ichigo’s clit and hood- his tongue is hot and hard and then soft and lapping, swirling and digging and rubbing until Ichigo’s legs shake over Grimmjow’s shoulders. He hasn’t stopped making noise for the past several minutes, drool smeared across his lower lip and fingers where he bit at to keep himself quiet.

And then Grimmjow rotates his wrist and rubs down, sucks Ichigo into his mouth and flicks hard with his perfect tongue, and Ichigo’s entire body seizes up with the waves of pleasure that engulf him. Grimmjow’s head gets trapped between his thighs as they spasm and slam shut, and Ichigo will feel bad for it later, but right now everything is white and hot and incredible- he squeezes around Grimmjow’s finger and rocks back and forth until the intensity fades, until he can relax onto his sweaty sheets and let his legs fall open.

“You good, baby?” Grimmjow asks, voice thick with arousal, and Ichigo smiles blearily down at him. The lower half of his face is wet, his pupils blown wide with desire, and Ichigo uses his still trembling legs to roll Grimmjow onto his back.

“Let me take care of you now?” Ichigo asks, low and murmuring into Grimmjow’s ear, and grinds his soaked thigh down onto Grimmjow’s dick- who moans and pushes his hips up, eyes shut tight and desperate.

“Not gonna take much-” He pants, and he’s hard and hot to the touch when Ichigo wraps his hand around him. The head of his dick is wet with precum and it makes Ichigo want to sit down on it more than he’s wanted anything else- but there’s no way in hell their first time is going to be a spur-of-the-moment thing without a condom, even if Ichigo is on birth control.

Instead, grinning down at Grimmjow’s pleasure-slack mouth and hazy eyes, Ichigo straddles his thick thighs and kneels enough to rub the tip of his cock against his clit, smooths it down over his entrance and then back up again, and watches Grimmjow’s eyes blow wide. His hands clamp down hard on Ichigo’s thighs, pressing white into his flesh, and he rocks his hips back up again to glide over the sensitive, slick flesh.

“Ichigo-” He gasps, abdomen tight and flexing with his thrusts, and Ichigo lets his shaft slide between his lips on the next thrust, sitting down until Grimmjow’s entire length is smeared in his wet slick and his balls brush against him. It only takes a few more rocks, Grimmjow’s eyes blown and fixed on Ichigo’s face, where his dick presses between Ichigo’s legs, and then he throws his head back and moans low in his throat as his hips spasm.

Ichigo leans forward so the come drips onto Grimmjow’s stomach, but he doesn’t stop the little hitching movements of his hips that rub him against the other boy’s dick until Grimmjow’s grip on his thighs stops him. His entire body is slack against the mattress, face and neck flushed red from his orgasm, and he stares up at Ichigo with dazed, adoring eyes.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Grimmjow mumbles. Ichigo smiles and slips off the to the side of him so he can pull Grimmjow closer to his chest, who uses his discarded shirt to wipe at the come on his stomach and then gently at the inside of Ichigo’s thighs. His soft touches makes Ichigo’s stomach warm, but in a different way than before.

“I wanted to, _baby,”_ Ichigo murmurs, cupping the back of his neck, and watches Grimmjow’s ears go red. He smiles and tugs at the other boy until Grimmjow rolls on top of him between his legs.

“Felt nice?” Grimmjow asks. His voice is muffled by Ichigo’s shirt and where his head rests in his neck, but there’s the faintest undercurrent of worry.

“It felt really nice, Grim.” Ichigo tells him. He rubs his fingers through his hair and feels Grimmjow relax into his soft touch, his hands coming up to rest over Ichigo’s ribcage.

“You felt- so good.” Grimmjow mumbles. He shuffles himself up a little and rubs little circles into his shirt, like a kneading cat. “When you- when you rubbed against me-”

Ichigo’s face flushes red at the reminder and he squirms a little, stilling when he feels Grimmjow’s dick twitch against the inside of his thigh. He glances down and feels his breath catch at the look in his eyes.

It’s all fond softness, gentle and warm and pleased, and Ichigo traces the slanted line of Grimmjow’s eyes. For a moment the other boy’s expression shutters- his face hardens and closes off, and Ichigo feels his own expression drop in response. But then Grimmjow presses his cheek into Ichigo’s palm and drops a kiss there.

“I want to try to be- be better, when it comes to you.” Grimmjow grumbles. He rubs his furrowed brow into Ichigo’s hand, who scratches his fingers through his hair and holds him a little closer.

“You’re already doing fine, Grim.” Ichigo tells him, but Grimmjow pulls back with a snarl on his face.

“I’m not going to end up like my parents, or my dad.” He snaps, his body going tight, and Ichigo jerks his head back from the furious expression.

“I wasn’t saying that- don’t get angry with me.” Ichigo says, his lips curling back from his teeth in warning, and Grimmjow stills in his arms. He eyes go dull and dark and he frowns.

“I don’t want to make a mistake with you.” He says, dropping his gaze to Ichigo’s collarbone where its exposed by his stretched collar. “You’re- _important_ to me.” Grimmjow grits out.

He abruptly rolls off of Ichigo and snatches a pillow up, pressing it onto Ichigo’s face. Ichigo splutters in surprise and wiggles away, his hands smacking at Grimmjow’s insistent arms and his pillow, and manages to whack it out of his hands.

“What the _fuck,_ Grim?” He asks, pushing himself into a seating position, and stares at the other boy as he stiffly pulls his pants back up and crosses his arms. He glares at the bed sheet under him, and Ichigo breathes through the irritation and settles back on the bed in front of him. He ignores the self-consciousness as his shirt slips up his back and waits for Grimmjow’s eyes to meet his.

Instead of talking, Grimmjow frowns and twists his expression for a few moments before laying down next to Ichigo, his fingers curling in his shirt. Ichigo still feels off kilter- they had gone from the warm savory of their mutual orgasms to Grimmjow snarling at him like a cornered animal and making comments about his father and being better.

“I’m sorry.” Grimmjow mumbles. He sounds exhausted and so, so sad, and Ichigo reaches out to rub his thumb over his cheekbone. Grimmjow turns his face into his touch.

“I won’t let you become any more of an asshole than you already are.” Ichigo says, his tone soft but firm, and is rewarded by Grimmjow’s lovely eyes flicking open to look at him with something like adoration.

  
_**ripping tendons biting tearing           hamstrings wrists elbows             fingers cut open peeling       like fruit                            vertebrae crushed one     by one     by one     by one** _

 

_**hello meat suit i think i like the way you taste make a little room for me** _

 

Ichigo startles awake to the tactile-memory of fingers running down the side of his face. He blinks a few times and scrubs the back of his hand over the lingering sensation, squinting in the dimness of his room. Sunrise is still far off and the streetlamps from outside provide the only illumination. He sighs heavily and squirms a little further under his sheets.

He’s just drifting off again when cool air slips down his back like water droplets. Ichigo grunts in annoyance and wriggles in place, trying to get the blanket to settle right, when a noise comes from the hallway. It’s the slightest of creaks- pressure on the warped floorboard a few feet down from his room. Ichigo freezes.

Everyone in the house knows where that is. Everyone knows how to expertly avoid it, even when half-asleep and stumbling around with a full bladder.

Eyes unfocused and looking in the direction of his desk, Ichigo stays perfectly still. The cold feeling up and down his spine warbles and then settles over his shoulders like two frigid hands. The faintest impression of long nails bite into his flesh. Ichigo swallows unsteadily.

The smear of light across his closet is a sickly yellow. It’s barely enough to make out the things in his smaller room, even with Ichigo’s enhanced eyesight. His desk and lamp are blurs against the pale impression of his wall, and the posters above them are barely-there shades. His dresser on the other side of the room is a deep swathe of darkness that looks like it extends on forever. His heart thuds wildly in his chest.

Something draws his eyes to his bedroom door. Animal instinct, maybe, paranoia from the sound in the hallway- whatever it is, Ichigo can’t force himself to look away. His stomach roils and he can feel his breathes coming in short, near-panicked bursts. There’s something wrong with what he’s looking at- something off, something that’s been altered just a little in his room, something that Ichigo can _feel_ but can’t quite pick up. His skin erupts in goosebumps as the cold digs a little deeper into his shoulder, and the faintest brush of lips meet his right ear.

_When is a door not a door?_

_When it is ajar._

Ichigo bolts upright in his bed the same moment he notices his door is open.

He closed it- he knows he did, he always closes it for the night- so why the _fuck_ is it _open-_ Ichigo’s breath catches in his chest as the door slowly creeps a few more inches open. He can’t look away, not even if he wanted to.

The door stops it’s movement. It’s only open- only _ajar-_ a few inches, not far enough for Ichigo to see what’s just beyond the dark of the hallway. For a few heartbeats it seems to be done, prodding Ichigo to wonder if this is a prank or just old hinges, when movement once again draws his focus.

The shadows shift subtly. They warp and distend, as if something is pressing against them. One by one, pale fingers- white like snow, like a corpse- reach around the edge of the door. Long black nails extend from each one, both too-human and too-not. They curl gently against the wood. With barely there pressure, the hand swings the door open a little further. The nails dig into the wood and leave little chips in the finish.

Ichigo can’t breathe. He can’t drag breath into his frozen lungs, can’t even imagine doing anything other than stare at his door. Fear is something thick and rotting in his throat. He feels unsettled, off-kilter, off-balance.

The nails dig a little deeper into the wood and the fingers bend, leaving deep furrows in the paneling near the base. They don’t make a sound, but Ichigo can almost _feel_ the pricking pain as those lethal looking nails move. His right shoulder feels heavy and numb with the weight of the glacial hand.

His right shoulder? Weren’t there hands on both of his shoulders?

Ichigo blinks and the white hand is gone. His door is shut, and his room looks normal again. His shoulders no longer bear the weight of the phantom hands, but when he tugs his shirt collar aside, there are bright red imprints that are cold to the touch.

Ichigo doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night. In the morning, there are four clawlike furrows at the bottom of his door.

In the morning, he forces himself to make a decision.

  


“You better be fuckin’ listening.” Ichigo grumbles, bracing himself on the sink and glaring at his reflection. He thinks- maybe, just for a moment there’s a flicker behind his eyes, something cold and hard and dark, but then he blinks and its gone. That’s all he needs, though.

 _White,_ he thinks into the void where the demon usually stays. There’s nothing but a feeling of openness, ripples like wings over dark water.

 _White! I’m not fucking leaving until you pay attention to me!_ Ichigo yells as best he can in his mind- it’s a distinctly unpleasant feeling, rough and unpleasant like few things are.

 **_now you want to talk what is it what do you want._ ** White’s presence is sour and biting. It snaps its _feeling presence here I am_ off like jaws closing tight around something soft and vulnerable.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at you.” Ichigo says quickly, knowing White is probably still furious. “You’ve been- trying to take care of me, kind of, in the best way you can, and I- it was wrong of me to be so cruel and mean to you.”

 **_don’t care don’t care don’t care i’m a demon “mean” “cruel” BULLSHIT that’s all i am_ **White rumbles in a feeling of snake-tail rattling and side-eyeing, its shoulders or something like them puffed in warning. Ichigo reaches out gently, as soft and unthreatening as he can make himself, but White snaps out furiously anyway. It’s pins and needles up and down his spine, biting at the base of his skull.

“Why do you have to make this so _difficult?”_ Ichigo snarls. This time he grips at White harshly, no kindness or softness in him. This time he pins the demon down and snaps at it, snaps at its throat and nips at its ears until White stops its struggling and settles down.

 _You’re going to quit holding this grudge,_ Ichigo hisses. He ripples his fingers in an impression of claws, pressing through scale and flesh until White feels the bite of them. _You’re going to drop this, you’re going to tell me how to survive this, and you’re going to quit crawling through my dreams._

 **_why why why who do you think you are you’re just my fucking meat suit that i rode out of hell_ **White whines. It wriggles under Ichigo’s hold.

 _What happened to “King?”_ Ichigo asks, his voice hard, but he releases White enough that the demon can belly-scrape its way out from under him. It turns and butts up at him in a feeling like a dog licking at his mouth.

 _Was it you?_ Ichigo asks, presses behind his eyelids. _Did you try to come into my room last night?_ White is reticent and Ichigo clutches at the cool ceramic sink under his hands a little tighter. A headache begins to bloom behind his eyes.

 **_yes maybe me_ ** White finally spits. It’s all bristled whiskers and cracked rock. **_what are you gonna do about it, pussy?_ **

Ichigo can’t keep himself from laughing. He loses his tenuous hold on their something-like mindspace and leans over the sink, snorting and coughing in amusement. White, even when its being unpredictable, is always predictabley pissy.

“What can I do to make you a little happier, buddy?” Ichigo asks once he’s calmed down a bit. White paces a little and rubs, almost too big, against the edges of Ichigo’s mind.

 **_now you ask_ ** White grumbles. **_but there is… something you thought of the other night. I want it._ **

It gives Ichigo the impression of stinging pain in his tongue, sharp and poignant, and then the rub of a little metal ball against the roof of his mouth, and Ichigo blinks at his reflection in the mirror. The light of the rising sun is just barely filtering through the window.

“You want- _that?”_ Ichigo asks, though he honestly isn’t even against it. White purrs in agreement.

So, seeking a way to appease the demon living inside his head and mend their tenuous relationship, Ichigo sneaks down to his father’s clinic and digs out a few 14 gauge needles and a barbell from Karin’s collection. He parks himself in front of the bathroom mirror, asks White to help hold him steady, and stabs the needle through his tongue. The pain is numbed enough that Ichigo quickly threads the barbell through and screws it into place.

He mops up the blood in his mouth and sticks his newly pierced tongue out between his sharp, not-quite-human teeth, and smiles. There’s something gold and hard behind his eyes- a little bit reptilian, and White smiles too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keep an eye out for chapter 4!!! its finals, so the next week/2 weeks will be really busy for my classes (......there is a lot of work and i have 4 exams......RIP) so chapter 4 might take a while. hopefully not as long as chapter 3, but who knows. itll definitely be out before june though!! i will hold myself to that.
> 
> comment!!! i love hearing you guys's thoughts!!!  
> come by on tumblr @kukurosaki or @lesbianhyena
> 
> also please for the love of god DO NOT give yourself piercings

**Author's Note:**

> didn't uuuhh.....mean to make this so long lol
> 
> come by on tumblr! i'm @gaybirdkid


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